Start Over?
by OhLookItsAnotherWriter
Summary: When Draco defended Hermione, she didn't expect it. "I know I've been a right git, but maybe we could start over?" AU. Pure fluff. No Voldemort, just teenagers navigating the halls of Hogwarts and adolescent drama. Light and bite-sized chapters. Rated T for language in future chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is my first fanfiction (yay)! Please feel free to read and review, as I greatly appreciate criticism. Rated T for language in later chapters. If you have any questions, PM me! Updates should be about once a week, and the chapters will generally be around 1000 words.**

 _Summary: When Draco defended Hermione, she didn't expect it. Neither did she expect the hand that was offered to her, or the crooked smile that followed. "I know I've been a right git, but maybe we could start over?" Fluff. Pure fluff. No Voldemort, (let's assume that he/his movement never survived the First Wizarding War) just teenagers navigating the halls of Hogwarts and adolescent drama._

Hermione fought back the tears in her eyes, wiping furiously at her face. Her beautifully painted face, which had taken hours to do, not to mention her hair, which was ruined. Stupid Ron with his stupid comments and his stupid hair… and why couldn't she just have a nice night with someone who noticed that she was a girl?! Couldn't Ron have left her in peace with Victor Krum for a few hours? She trembled with rage, and had half a mind to go back and slap the boy.

Much like she had done in third year. However, that would reflect poorly on her behavior. She had better self-control now. "I am a Gryffindor. I won't slap Ron. I am a Gryffindor. I won't slap Ron." Hermione repeated this to herself under her breath as she stomped towards the washrooms, desperate for some peace and quiet. She knew she needed some time to fix herself up before rejoining her date. It was unfair to leave him there alone, famous Seeker or not.

Alas, the world did not seem to be on her side. Just as she turned the corner, she saw who she considered to be her worst enemies marching in her direction.

Draco Malfoy. Greg Goyle. Vincent Crabbe. Just the thought of their names made her shudder.

Oh no. She had mascara running down her face. Her hair was out of the elaborate hairstyle she had worked so hard on, falling down her back in rioting curls and back into its bushy state. She was mincemeat.

"Look, it's the Mudblood," guffawed Goyle, pointing a meaty finger. Crabbe sniggered beside him, but Malfoy almost frowned at them, before turning back to look at her. Unlike his minions, he stayed silent.

"Has someone hurt the wittle Mudbwood's feewings?" Crabbe cooed, before bursting into more laughter. Hermione felt trapped to the floor. One side was telling her to just run away as fast as possible, perhaps seek refuge in the washroom. Another side was telling her to hold her ground. After all, she was a Gryffindor. A smaller side, barely a whisper, was muttering that these buffoons weren't worth it. Who cared about their comments when she could annihilate them in the classroom?

So, Hermione slowly walked away, hobbling in her dressy shoes, clutching her periwinkle dress in her fists. Looking down at the floor, she started to make her way back to the Great Hall, where she would apologize to Victor and leave the Yule Ball.

"Hey! Mudblood! I asked you a question!" Obviously angered that the witch had not responded in the correct manner, Crabbe and Goyle ran after her. She was beneath them, and would act as such, even if they had to teach her.

"Leave her alone," announced a new voice. Malfoy. Hermione spun around, slightly surprised that the King of Gits had decided to defend her, even if he was not putting in that much effort. "No one likes hearing that word, and honestly, I'm disgusted by your behavior. What if one of the teachers heard you? Can you imagine what McGargoyle would have done? Or Dumbledore?"

His companions shrugged, and Hermione did not dare to breathe. She couldn't believe it. Oh, if only she had a camera! Draco Malfoy shoved his hands in his robes, his hair glinting in the torchlight. It took on a lighter sheen, if that were even possible.

"Just… leave her alone and go back to the ball. Your dates are probably missing you. Go on. I'll catch up in a bit. Don't knock anything over. Snape is already annoyed with you and the Herbology dung bomb fiasco."

The boys grunted in disapproval, but a hard glare and violent snarl from their pale leader and they took off.

Hermione leaned into the wall as the hulking boys passed her, and one gave her a hard shove for good measure. Malfoy was instantly there, steadying her as he glared daggers at their receding backs.

"Are you okay?" he asked. His eyes searched hers, and almost unconsciously, placed a hand on her shoulder for just a second too long.

"Why do you care?" she replied, wringing her hands together. His eyes instantly hardened, and his mouth opened, most likely with a flippant retort. Then, he pursed his lips and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I don't. Not really. But those two crossed a line and they know it. 'Mudblood' is no longer a polite term, and even my parents are accustomed to having Muggleborns around Malfoy Manor."

"Then why did you call me that in Second Year?"

Again, Malfoy's mouth opened, then closed. He looked rather like a fish. The thought amused Hermione, who fought a smile off her face. A few seconds passed before he squared his shoulders, and offered his hand. Something flashed across his face before he fixed a smile on his features. The frightening part was that Hermione could not discern whether the expression was a truth or a lie. There was no smirk, no sneer. Just a smile, a little more than polite, a little less than something else. She could not put a finger on it.

"Look, I know I've been a right git since we've met each other, but maybe we could start over?"

Hermione looked at him. He looked at her, with her smudged makeup and messy hair and slightly rumpled dress. He would have to see about getting it cleaned. He looked and he saw a girl who might be willing to accept his offer, as out-of-the-blue it had been.

If only she knew he'd been planning this encounter for the better part of a month.

With a tentative smile of her own, Hermione gripped his hand with her fingers, slowly shaking it up a down. "It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Hermione Granger."

"I'm Draco Malfoy." For a split second, the Slytherin's heart sped up at the twinkle in her eye, before he stepped aside to let her step into the washroom.

As soon as she was out of his sight, and as soon as he was back alone in his dorm room, he let out the slightest of whoops.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks for the favorites and the reviews and the follows! I hope I'm doing this ship justice! If the characters seem a little OCC, that was meant to be. Since Voldemort failed, and thus, not trying to kill Harry and his friends, I figured the experiences of the kids and staff in general would be different, and thus would influence their personalities. Later, Hermione will show her bossy side and Draco his manipulative side. I also found it a bit strange that Muggle-born students were expected to assimilate into a culture they had no clue existed until the onset of puberty, and were given virtually no warning. All that accidental magic had to have been hard to explain to others who weren't magical. This topic will also be broached in later chapters.**

Christmas Break had come and gone, and Hermione returned to Platform 9¾ with a smile on her face and a bracelet on her right wrist. The gift had come from an anonymous 'friend,' and she was curious to find out who had sent her this costly piece of jewelry. A band of gold adorned with a ruby on one side and an emerald on the other, the bracelet sparkled with a life of its own. A couple runes on the inside revealed a secret message, "From a friend."

As far as she knew, neither Ron nor Harry had bought her this. Ron had merely sent her some chocolate. Harry had bought her a quill with endless ink. Quite thoughtful, considering how much she wrote and how many bottles of ink she had gone through throughout the year.

Speaking of her friends, there they were, hauling their trunks amid a sea of Weasleys. Ginny in particular seemed attached to Harry, and as soon as he spoke, her head seemed to spiral in his direction with a speed Hermione hadn't known possible.

"Hermione! Over here!" shouted Ron. Cursing at the weight of his trunk, no doubt filled with Mrs. Weasley's snacks and more candy, he made his way towards her. Hermione stopped in her tracks, and gently set her trunk down, careful to conceal her bracelet. Ron had a habit of being jealous for the strangest of reasons. He seemed to think he had a claim on her, despite his cruel comments and the fact the two of them were not in a relationship.

"Hullo, Ron," she said, a faint smile on her face. Pushing her hair out of her eyes, she craned her neck to look at his lanky form. His body seemed to be growing too fast for him to keep up.

"I wanted to apologize," he started. At Hermione's raised eyebrow, he continued. "For the Yule Ball. It wasn't fair of me. Harry told me so, and I have to agree with him. I've been a bloody prat."

"Why didn't you apologize sooner?" she asked. She had visited the Burrow just a few days before to exchange gifts and catch up on the latest news. At Ron's blush, she narrowed her eyes. "You weren't planning to apologize sooner, were you? You just want me to look over your Transfiguration essay, don't you!"

Ron blushed even harder, and Hermione grabbed her trunk. She had enough of boys and their egos, and she had enough of Ron and his serious case of 'foot-in-mouth' disease. Honestly, was it too much to ask for them to write two feet for one bloody class? Obviously, yes.

"Hermione! Hermione! 'Mione!"

"You know I hate that nickname!" she tossed over her shoulder, looking back to see Ron running after her, his trunk clattering about the train station. With a final glare in his direction, she turned around once again, ready to board the train, before she ran into someone.

"Oomph!" she cried, flailing her arms. Alas, her efforts did not pay off, and her back connected with the ground.

"You alright?" asked a smoother voice, and a pale hand reached for her own. Her eyes rising from the hand to the black-clothed arm to the pale face, she let out a soft gasp. "Malfoy!"

"That's my last name, yes. Sorry about that. Should have been looking where I was going. Here. Let me get your things. I'm alone on this train ride, I'm afraid, and could use some company."

"Where are your friends?"

"They've all gotten permission to miss one more day of school. They'll be arriving tomorrow," he responded as he pulled her up, steadying her along the way. Just as she smiled in gratitude, Ron finally caught up to him.

"Is the ferret bothering you, 'Mione?" he snarled, his hands slowly bunching into fists.

Malfoy stepped away from Hermione and took the time to size him up. As in first year, he sneered at the quality of clothes, the ratty and overstuffed trunk, and the wild ginger hair. "Weasley. I see you haven't come up with any new insults, or new clothes for that matter. As you can see, I was merely helping your friend get up from the floor." His brow burrowed, and his eyes took on a malicious gleam. Before he could open his mouth with a more colorful insult, however, Hermione stepped in, sensing a storm of emotions about to erupt from Ron.

"Ron, he was not bothering me. Malfoy, please. Don't. It's the new year, and I for one want to have a fresh start. Let's just all get on the train and try not to kill each other for one more year."

Malfoy turned to look at her, and his lips tilted upwards in the faintest mockery of a smile before he nodded once. Ron, however, was in no such mood to tolerate the blond's smirks and why was he looking at his mate like that? Sure, it took him a while to realize she was a girl, but to have the ferret eye her was over the line.

"As soon as ferret over here goes away, I will," he sneered, folding his arms across his chest, sizing up Malfoy. The Slytherin had subtly put himself in front of her, and Hermione huffed at the display. Honestly. Boys never learn, do they?

"Ronald Bilius Weasley. Get on the train and I'll see you at dinner. I cannot believe you, a fellow Gryffindor, would say such things to another student! Malfoy, I cannot believe that you look down on others based on the state of their clothing!" exclaimed Hermione. With a final huff and twirl of her bushy hair, she grabbed her trunk and stomped, actually stomped, onto the train. Both boys exchanged a bewildered glance before hurrying about their own business, Ron grabbing his trunk and falling back with Harry and Malfoy following Hermione on the train.

It wasn't until he had reached one of the last compartments that the fair-haired boy saw her. Her brows were still furrowed and her shoulders were still tense, but Hermione did not seem as angry as before. Cautiously, he knocked, and once they made eye contact, Malfoy entered.

"Hey. Want some company?" he asked, shuffling in his place. It wasn't often someone told him off. His parents merely raised an eyebrow. His teachers never caught him. His friends encouraged him. However, she scolded him, and in front of the Weasel, of all people!

He could visibly see her soften, and taking the opportunity, Malfoy sat down next to her, stretching out his legs. Hmm. He would need some new shoes, soon. These were starting to lose their sheen. Perhaps he should owl his mother. "Sorry about the insults. I wasn't aware they hurt you, as well," he started. After all his hard work at the Yule Ball, he was not letting her close off on him the first day back at school.

Hermione huffed before shaking her head. "It's just… why? There is no gain for you. It just makes you a bully. Someone's socioeconomic class should not determine their worth. Ron is…" it was here she trailed off, obviously trying to find a trait. "…loyal. He's loyal and brave and a good chess player."

It was Malfoy's turn to snort. Turning in his seat, he shot her a bemused answer before replying. "Being brave and loyal are traits of being a Gryffindor. As for the good chess playing, it's all strategy. I, myself, have never been beaten," he finished smugly, sending her a wink, which earned him a slight slap on his arm. The slap, which had been conducted with her right hand, revealed the bracelet. Malfoy was careful not to reveal anything on his face.

That particular bracelet had been hard to find, and eventually it took some extra money and a couple bribes to have the inscription just right. After a few seconds of silence had passed, he decided to find out if he appreciated his anonymous gift the only way a Malfoy could, "Nice bracelet. Who's it from?"

Hermione started, before twirling the accessory in question around her wrist. "I have no idea. The inscription inside says it's from a friend, but no one I know would get me this. It's too expensive, and I don't know if Krum likes me that much."

Draco took her moment of enthrallment with her bracelet to mutter under his breath, "He better not. That tosser messed up my plans for the entire year," before replying, "maybe it's a secret admirer."

"As if I have one of those."

"Granger, I'm pretty sure Potter and Weasley are the only ones, and I mean the only ones, who were sure you were nothing more than a walking encyclopedia."

"Hermione."

"What?"

"My first name is Hermione. If what you said at the Yule Ball is true, and you want to start over, then you should call me Hermione."

"Only if you call me Draco."

"Deal."

With that, the rest of the train ride passed in one of the longest conversations either of them had been subject to. A number of topics were debated, and some ended in silence, others in shock, and others in the type of laughter that left one breathless and with an aching stomach.

"Wait… are you saying that you want to work for the Ministry?" Draco asked.

"Yes, what's so wrong with that?"

"You'd be bored out of your mind, especially if you aren't an Auror or Head of some department or other."

"Well, what do you want to be?"

"Head of Malfoy Industries. My father is thinking of retiring a few years after I graduate, and I actually like the job. I look over reports with him sometimes and attend some of the meetings."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at the information, and stored it away for later. "Well then, Draco. What do you propose I do with my time?"

"I dunno. You're a good teacher but you don't like lazy students, and you've seen Hogwarts. Exhibit A and B would be your so-called 'best friends.' I would have gone for a private curse-breaker or something. You're smart enough to handle the dangers and know when your bravery is not as important as your safety. You're not reckless. Rash, yes, if Third Year was any indication, but not stupid."

"Hmm," was her thoughtful reply. Draco knew he had lost her to her own mind. He expected it. As she was distracted among her own thoughts, he took a moment to appreciate the bracelet on her wrist.

It was one of his finer points of his plan. Within the depths of his soul, something in him smiled at the obvious way Hermione seemed to enjoy it. Yes, the bracelet was paying off.


End file.
